


Experiments in Tiny

by lunar_system



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ace Jon, Established Relationship, Everything Is Alright AU, Fluff, Holding Hands, Hugs, Kisses, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Health Themes, allosexual martin, hot jon rights, one M rated chapter that is easily skippable if wanted, tiny Jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunar_system/pseuds/lunar_system
Summary: Jon is tiny. Martin adores him.A selection of cozy scenes showcasing just that.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 57
Kudos: 257





	1. Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is my love letter for all the tiny, small and short men and men-aligned people out there, trans and cis. I adore you. You make my day better whenever I see you. 
> 
> This fic is sort of AU in a sense that nothing paranormal is happening, all is well, they are together and both fully human. They pressed the “revert the world back” button at the Panopticon, you know the one. The angst tag is because of some lingering trauma, but that's just the reality of ex-protagonists of a horror show.
> 
> Cw: discussion of sexual attraction and sex. Jon is neutral towards sex, and it is implied that he is fine with some sexual acts with Martin. Martin is mindful about Jon's boundaries. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ [lunar-system](https://lunar-system.tumblr.com/)

“Sorry. I’ll need that for a sec,” Jon said and pulled his hand out of Martin’s. 

“No…” Martin whined dramatically but let go of Jon’s hand anyway. Jon only turned a page of the book he was reading and then gave his hand back for Martin to hold. He cradled it in his own and sunk deeper into the sofa, watching telly with half his attention. 

Jon spoke absentmindedly, without averting his eyes from the book. “You really like holding hands.”

“It's only because you have the best hands.” Martin rubbed the back of Jon’s hand with his thumb.

Jon shrugged. “They’re just hands.”

“A counterpoint: have you seen them?”

Jon took a breath and opened his mouth as if to argue, but instead let out a grumbling sigh. He put down his book and raised his hands up and looked at them from all sides. They really were just hands, if you did not count the various bad memories inscribed in them. A burn scar on the right palm, pock marks scattered on the skin. “They’re my hands,” Jon repeated. 

“Yes, but,” Martin said and captured both of the hands in his, “they’re _tiny.”_

Jon hummed and his brow furrowed. “I can’t exactly help that.”

“Oh.” Martin froze for a second. “Oh! No, no, no, no, Sorry. I mean. It’s a good thing.”

Jon’s brow furrowed further. “Really?”

“A great thing, in fact. Sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know you’d be self-conscious about it.”

“I’m not.”

Martin stared at him. Jon held his gaze valiantly for a moment before giving in. “Fine. It’s just not… manly, I guess. People want to see… you know. Manly hands.” Jon freed his right hand and spread his fingers as wide as they got. It was not very wide at all. 

“I’m not _people_.”

Jon laughed. “No, no you’re not.” 

“Plus, if it helps, I don’t think my hands are up to the manly standard either.” Martin demonstrated his own hand, which albeit was much bigger than Jon’s, but also more plump. “Look at us, manly men with manly hands, huh? How many man points have you got today? I changed a lightbulb, like, last week. That must be at least like… a hundred points.”

“Five hundred.” Jon looked at him fondly. “You like my hands, then?”

“I do.” Martin gave one of them a kiss. “They’re beautiful. I love them.” He opened his mouth to continue but hesitated. 

“What?”

“Not sure if I should tell you.”

“Well, you kinda have to now.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Fine. But it’s sexual. So only if you’re fine with hearing it.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well… back in the day, when I was…” Martin stopped and wondered if he’d regret sharing this until the rest of his days, “uh, starting to get the crush on you, it kinda was your hands that did it.”

Jon laughed. “What?”

Martin rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Gosh, this is embarrassing.”

“No, please. I’m curious.”

“Alright, alright. I mean, I had obviously always known I’m attracted to you, I mean, you’re my type and all –

“And what’s that?”

“Well, small, to start with –

Jon opened his mouth to interrupt. Martin didn’t let him. “No, I know it sounds weird, I mean, who likes people because they're short? And _of course_ it’s not why I fell in love with you, _obviously._ But it kinda is why you caught my eye at the start. I can’t help it. I saw you, and you were small, and I go –” Martin made his hands into fists and squealed a little.

Jon shook his head and sighed, smiling. “And what did this have to do with my hands?”

“Right. So, you were a bit of a dick back then –”

“And I am sorry –”

“– and you’ve been forgiven. But yeah, because of that I thought I couldn’t really fall for you.”

“But because of my magic hands you just couldn’t help yourself,” Jon said and wiggled his short fingers. 

“Stop it. Well, if you must know, it was during the worms. I was thinking about you a biiit too much. You know, worrying and all. But then I just sorta thought that you have really nice hands. Like, _really_ nice hands. And the next thing I know my mind made them roam to all kinds of places.” Martin stopped and took a fortifying breath. “And I really, _really_ liked that thought. So there. Hands.”

A silence of a moment fell. Martin wanted to disappear between the sofa cushions. 

“Huh,” said Jon.

Martin rolled his eyes. “That's all you gotta say?” 

“Surprising.”

“Are you sure you were fine with hearing about it?”

“Yes. One question, though.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Has your fantasy of my wandering hands been sufficiently fulfilled?”

Martin gasped. “Jon!” 

“It’s an honest question.”

“Well… I mean. I really, _really,_ like them. So, I mean… if you ever wanna spoil me, I’m all for it.”

“Good to know,” Jon said and looked awfully smug when he picked his book back up, this time leaving his left hand for Martin voluntarily. Martin lifted it up and kissed all of its knuckles separately, then the back of the hand and the palm as well.


	2. Hugs

Jon was washing dishes. There were various baking ingredients placed on the counter next to him. Martin came to hug him from behind and rested his chin on top of Jon’s head.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Jon said. 

“I love you too,” Martin responded. “What’s all this for?”

“Pancakes.”

“Pancakes!”

“But only after the dishes are done. It’ll be faster if you help.”

Martin nuzzled his face into Jon’s neck. “I am helping.” 

“Debatable.”

Martin slunk his arms further around Jon’s narrow waist, until they enveloped him all around. He traced the edge of Jon's ribcage with his thumb. After a moment Jon yielded, closed the tap and turned around to hug Martin back. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice tickling Martin’s ear.

“Alright. Had a dream about the artifact storage. Terrifying stuff.”

“I bet. A kiss?”

“Yes, please.”

“Mmm.” 

They parted from the hug far enough to let Jon crane his neck and Martin hunch down to meet him in the middle. 

“Better?” Jon asked with a smile on his tired face. No matter how well he slept, the look remained. 

“Much.” Martin squeezed Jon back close. “You are sooo huggable.”

“Same to you.”

They stayed there for a moment and breathed. A peaceful Sunday morning with nowhere else to be, nothing else to do. Martin let the calm wash over him. 

“Now,” Jon said after a moment, “Pancakes?”

“Pancakes.”


	3. Suits

“We need to go soon, or we’ll be late!” Martin shouted from the bathroom. He was trying to make his hair look neat enough to match his suit. He had a suspicion he was not going to succeed.

“I’m ready,” Jon said and appeared at the bathroom door. Martin glanced at him, did a double take and ended up staring, mouth hanging open.

“Christ, Jon. Not okay.”

Jon checked himself out and spread his hands, oblivious. “What? Why not?”

“You have no business looking like –,” Martin gave up styling his hair, washed and dried his hands quickly, “– looking like… God, I mean,  _ look  _ at yourself.”

Jon only looked back at him in that exasperated way that he always did when he did not understand something. “Care to enlighten me?”

Martin took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. He took a step towards Jon and placed his hands on his shoulders. He felt the sharp bones through the dark fabric. Then he let his hands trail down the lapels of the suit and over the flat plane of Jon’s chest. He held Jon by his waist for a moment and resisted an urge to squeeze. Finally he straightened Jon’s tie that didn’t need straightening and took his hands in his.

Jon looked at him with dark eyes. His hair was pulled back in a very neat ponytail at his neck. 

Everything about him just screamed to be adored.

Martin shook his head. “You know, I kinda wish I could shrink you into this tiny little thing, put you in my pocket and just keep you there forever.”

“I’ll pass, thank you.”

“No, but seriously. You look really handsome. How come I’ve never seen you in a suit before? It really suits you.  _ Really.” _

Jon laughed, a relieved little sound that crept in his voice too. “Good. That’s, that’s good. I wasn’t sure. It’s really hard to find a suit that fits me.”

Martin nodded. He had plenty of sizing issues with his own clothing too, even if they were completely different than Jon’s. “This one does.”

“It better. It cost a lot.” Jon reached up and touched up Martin’s hair with gentle fingers. “Are you sure about..?”

“My hair? Nope.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright. Come here.” Jon walked them in front of the bathroom mirror and began arranging Martin’s hair. Martin looked at the two of them from the mirror. Both of them dressed in their best suits with matching ties. He smiled. Groom and groom?

Maybe someday. 

“Melanie will kill us if we’re late from their wedding,” Martin said.

“Nothing new about that.”

“Georgie might be pissed, too.”

“Hmm. Now that’s a threat that shouldn’t be taken lightly,” Jon said. He finished styling Martin’s hair and cupped his cheeks with his hands. Martin smiled fondly at him and watched a matching smile bloom on Jon’s face as well.

“A kiss before we go?” he suggested.

Jon blinked slowly and hummed. He hooked his arms around Martin’s neck and pulled him down. Martin wrapped his arms around Jon’s waist and kissed his future husband with love. 


	4. Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: martin feels attraction towards a stranger

Martin felt the familiar drop in his stomach at the sight of the stranger’s back. Oh no, he thought. He is  _ hot. _

It’s alright, he tried telling himself. It’s alright to be attracted to others even when you’re in a relationship. It’s normal. It doesn’t mean anything. I love Jon, and I would never choose to hurt him. That’s what matters.

Still, he felt guilty about glancing at the strangers back. The man was at the next isle in the grocery store. It was the ridiculously bright print of his hoodie that had first caught his attention. The pattern went all the way up to the drawn up hood. But the very next thing Martin had noticed was the size of the man. He had a similar, narrow frame that Jon had. Tiny hips, short legs. Shoulders that were objectively narrow but looked broad in comparison to the man’s waist. How small would his hands be? As small as Jon’s? 

Martin swallowed and turned away. No, he did not want to follow that thought any further. He’d get the groceries, go home, and have food ready once Jon came back home from Georgie’s and Melanie’s. And when Jon got home, then he’d kiss Jon’s hands and forget all about any other small men in the world. He had the very best one of them for himself, after all.

And yet he glanced at the stranger’s direction one last time. The man had now turned so that Martin saw his profile underneath the hood. The shape of his nose looked familiar. In fact, it looked very,  _ very  _ familiar. 

“Jon?” Martin blurted out, loud enough to startle other people around him. 

Jon looked up from the package he had been examining. His frown turned into a smile when he spotted Martin approaching him. 

“Martin! Hi,” Jon said. He reached up and squeezed Martin’s bicep affectionately as a greeting. Martin caught his hand on its way down and held on it firmly.

“What on earth are you wearing?” he asked.

“Oh,” Jon laughed. He pushed the hood from his head. “It’s Georgie’s. We had a bit of a… baking accident.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you later.”

“Alright.”

They stood at the isle, hand in hand, looking at each other. Martin smiled, wider and wider. He couldn’t help it. 

Jon looked puzzled. “What?”

Martin laughed. He squeezed Jon’s hand tight. “I’m the luckiest guy in this shop, d’you know that?”

“Martin.” John sounded as if he was scolding him. 

Martin kept on smiling. His heart was full, and it was spilling over. “What do you want to do? I want to treat you. Is there anything I could do for you?”

“Uh,” Jon said. He laughed and covered his mouth with his small hand, a cute little habit he had whenever he got flustered. “Here?”

“Well, probably not. At home,” Martin said. He stepped closer to Jon and pulled his hand up to kiss it quickly. It really was the most beautiful hand he had even seen, scars and all. The scars were a part of their shared history. “But I mean it. Anything.”

“Alr– alright. Alright.” Jon nearly giggled as he glanced around. Martin took a step back. Maybe public displays of affection were not alright for Jon today. Jon didn’t let go of his hand, though. Instead Jon squeezed it and smiled at him fondly. “Well. A shoulder massage might be nice?”

“Fuck yeah. Make it full back if you want. And neck, and head as well. Are you done with the shopping? Can we go already?”

“Do you have everything we need?”

“Oh. Oh! Right. No. We need…” Martin dug up the shopping list. “Right. Not done. Help me?”

Jon laughed. “Sure. What do we need?”


	5. Celebrities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: casual drinking, discussion of negative stigma of short men, martin is overly protective and jon calls him out of it

“I don’t have celebrity crushes,” Martin said absentmindedly, giving his modest contribution to the conversation at hand.

Georgie turned to look at him curiously. “No? I thought Jon might not, but you?” 

Jon’s brow furrowed. “I’ve had –”

“Why not, Martin?” Melanie interrupted.

“Eh.” Martin shrugged and cradled his pint in his hands. The pub was loud, and he had to talk with a louder voice than he normally would have. But it was Friday night, and he and Jon had finally managed to coordinate their calendars with Georgie’s and Melanie’s, so he tried to not feel self-conscious about it. “There just isn’t anyone… interesting.”

“Really? Nobody at all?” Georgie asked.

“Martin has a very specific taste,” Jon said before Martin had a chance to defend himself.

“Ooh! And what does that mean?” Georgie asked, now intrigued.

Martin gaped at Jon. “Jon!”

Jon looked carefully innocent.

Georgie pressed on. “Martin! What’s your taste?” 

“Jon, why did you have to say that?” Martin asked.

Jon just shrugged and took a gulp from his drink, looking a bit too pleased with himself.

“Well, if Martin’s not going to say it...” Melanie pitched in to aid her wife. “Jon! What’s Martin’s type? Tired academics?”

Jon laughed with the rest of them but shook his head. “Not quite. Martin?”

Jon looked at him, asking for permission. Martin groaned theatrically. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but he actually was quite happy to be the center of attention for once. It wasn’t as if he had always had a friend group that would have teased him about silly things like his taste in men. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”

Jon smiled a smug little smile. “Martin prefers his men _short.”_

“Ha!” Melanie burst out laughing.

Georgie looked delighted. “That… that makes sense.” 

“Good for you!” Melanie said. “Good for you.”

Martin rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, it’s the truth! Someone has to, right! I mean, just look at celebrities. There are practically no male actors who are –” Martin gestured at Jon, “– Jon shaped. And trust me, I would know.”

“Really? No male actors at all?” said Georgie. “What about like, Iron Man?” 

“He's not short! He’s like 5'7!” Martin said. “It's just that his co-star is taller than him, so they make him stand on a box to not look short!”

Melanie laughed. “Did you just know that from the top of your head?”

“Yeah, well. What if i did.” Martin took a sip of his beer. There had been many times when he had gone browsing online in search of any short actor who would have made it to the top. He nearly choked on his drink as a face came to his mind now. “Charlie Chaplin!”

“What about him?” Georgie asked.

“He’s short! He used to be my celebrity crush!” Martin said. Yeah, he hadn’t realised it as a teenager, but there had been other reasons for watching City Lights over and over again other than just the appreciation of cinema history. 

Jon looked at him. “Really? The tramp? With the… hat and the… mustache?”

It was Martin’s turn to shrug. “He’s almost you-shaped.”

“Aww,” said Melanie.

Georgie seemed thoughtful. “A comedian, huh? I had a friend who _always_ ended up together with short men. But then one of them said to her that it was just because short men are always funny. That they have no other advantage going on for them, so they learn to be funny.”

A moment of silence fell over their table as they contemplated this. 

“Well, it applies to Chaplin, at least,” said Jon eventually. 

“Come on, you can be funny too,” Georgie said. Martin could see from her posture that she was embarrassed.

“Buster Keaton was small too, wasn’t he?” Melanie added.

“Yes, he was!” Martin said. Another small comedian from the silent era whose movies he had watched a bit too carefully as a teenager. “But Jon doesn’t need to become a comedian just because he’s short! You know that, right? Jon?”

“I don’t actually have an issue with my height, Martin.”

“Good. Because there is nothing to have an issue about.”

“Aww,” Melanie said again.

“Shut up,” Martin snapped and regretted it immediately. He gave Melanie an apologetic smile, only to chastise himself for acting like Melanie could see. “Sorry,” he added instead.

Jon watched him curiously. “Are you sure you don’t have an issue with it? _”_

Martin was taken aback by the suggestion. “No, of course I don’t have an issue! You know that! It’s the _society_ that has an issue!”

“Sure. I just mean…” Jon paused to think. “You seem frustrated enough. And it’s not like society will change just because you... channel your frustration on me.”

“I don’t channel my –,” Martin began to argue but stopped. “...do I?”

Jon scratched his neck. “I don’t know. Do you?”

“I just want you to know that you’re okay!”

“Despite my height?”

“Despite your hei– _no,_ No! Because of it. Partly. It’s not like I only love you because of how you look like – why are you laughing?”

Jon had managed to hide his smile for a moment, but was now laughing. Melanie and Georgie joined in on it too. 

“It’s not funny!”

Jon took his hand. “Martin. I appreciate your concern. And I’m… I’m touched about your strive to change the world into a better place for short men. Truly, an honorable charity case.” 

“But it is a real issue!”

“Absolutely, yeah.” Jon nodded empathetically. “It’s a statistical fact that short men are less likely to be promoted, for example. Actually, it’s kinda unlucky that even with my lack of inches I was still promoted to Archivist.” 

“Boom!”

“Thank you, Melanie. But Martin? Honestly, I’m quite fine.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “Are you though? Really?”

Jon exhaled slowly. “These days? Yes. I am. I mean, it used to be a bit tough when I was younger. But it's not like my height came as a surprise. Everyone in my family was short, did you know that? Between me and my granny, I was the tall one.” Jon smiled and rubbed Martin’s hand with his thumb. “So don’t work yourself up over it, okay? It’s really not an issue.”

“But what about…” Martin glanced at Melanie and Georgie. They were both listening intently, so it would be no use whispering. Instead he looked pointedly at Jon’s hands and squeezed them. “What we talked about?”

“Alright. Sure.” Jon sighed. “I can be both, okay? Insecure about some things, and at the same time... Fine with others? I wouldn't go and borrow the The Boneturner’s Tale to change myself, if that's what you're worried about.”

“Good. I wouldn't want you to. Because it is _not_ an issue.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Martin repeated. Somehow he still felt as if he had lost the discussion. But that was ridiculous. It wasn’t a competition. And Jon was fine. That was what mattered. 

Wasn’t it?

Jon looked at Martin with concern in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re alright, though? I mean. Would it help if I pretended to suffer so that you can comfort me?”

“God, no. Now you make me sound like an idiot,” Martin ran a hand over his face and sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright. I believe you. You’re fine. You’re fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine. Can we please carry on? Who's buying the next round? Me? Good!”

“And Jon can still become a comedian if he wants to,” added Melanie. 

“I’d like to see it,” said Georgie.

“I wouldn’t, said Jon.


	6. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: bit of angst. dealing with the trauma of having been a protagonist in a horror show. canon-typical arguing.
> 
> I just tried to say that Jon’s head is small and cute and pretty like the rest of him so why did it need to become angsty? I don’t know.
> 
> This takes inspiration from a headcanon I saw somewhere that when Jon loses his connection to the Eye, he will lose his memories too. Like how it went with the Upton House. Very handy, since I too don’t currently remember how S5 ends.

“Do you ever wonder whether it all really happened?” Jon asked quietly. He was laying on the floor, his head resting in Martin’s palms. “Whether it was real?” 

Martin fingers paused for a moment. He looked at Jon’s head in his hands, his upside down face and closed eyes. There was a pinch of worry around his eyebrows.

“No,” he said simply and continued massaging the tight knots of muscle at Jon’s neck. Today they had flared up a headache. Martin had finally gotten Jon to admit having it, but only after first having listened to a whole afternoon of grumpy comments without any explanation. 

Martin was happy to relieve the pain in any way he could. His palms cupped the back of Jon's head, wrapping around it and holding its weight. His fingers pressed carefully into the soft area where his skull ended and neck began, searching for sore spots. It didn’t require much effort from his part. It was the weight of Jon’s head that did most of the work. His head, even though it was small and the back of it fit easily in Martin’s cupped palms, was reassuringly heavy. Jon laid its entire weight in his hands, vulnerable and trusting. 

Jon sighed. It was a heavy sound that made Martin’s heart ache. A sound that belonged to heavier times. “Do you?” he asked Jon quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace that they had created in the dimly lit living room. Curtains were drawn over the windows.

"It's easier sometimes," Jon said slowly, with his eyes pinched closed, "to think it was all just... a story."

"But it wasn't.

“Yes, I know, Martin! I know!" Jon snapped. Martin felt his neck tense. His own hands tensed too. "Sorry, I... You know it's hard for me to... remember..."

Martin sighed. He knew it well. It was just that he didn’t always like his role of Jon’s external memory. There were so many bad memories to carry. “I know.” 

Jon reached up and brushed Martin’s wrist with his fingers. "Sorry." 

“Yeah,” Martin said. First Jon’s headache, and now reminiscing. Martin wasn’t sure whether he had the mental energy for dealing with them both. Though, they probably were just two sides of the same coin. They both had bad days. This was Jon’s. 

Martin took a deep breath. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jon was quiet for a moment. "I don’t know."

"Okay." Martin continued to rub Jon's neck, quietly and waiting for Jon to continue. Jon was still tense in his hands, but slowly his head became heavier as he relaxed again.

Eventually Jon opened his eyes and craned his neck slightly to look up at Martin. Martin looked at his upside down face, his dark eyes. The endless black of them was sad but trusting. Martin adjusted his hands so that his thumbs rested against Jon’s temples and rubbed them gently. He offered Jon a small smile. 

Jon didn’t smile back. “Martin.”

“Mhmm?”

“I do want to hear you tell it again. I think I always will.” 

“Jon, I –”

“No, wait. I mean… part of me will always want to find a way to prove it was real. To prove that... I’m not crazy. Or if not that, then to figure out how it could have all gone differently.” Jon sighed. “But it doesn’t really work that way, does it? Or... change anything.”

Martin shook his head. “No, I don’t think it does.”

“At some point I’ll just have to accept that… this is how it is, for me.”

Martin smiled sadly. “You know, I’m kinda happy to hear you say that.”

“Yes, it…” Jon struggled to find words. “It seems… right. Like the right direction to go to. It doesn’t feel easy. But it feels right.”

“There’s no hurry to figure it out. Take your time.” Martin caressed Jon’s temples with his thumbs and bent downwards. “Can I kiss you?”

“A small one.”

He pecked a quick kiss on Jon’s lips, just a slight touch before he got up again. When he did, he saw Jon smiling.

“Spiderman!” Jon announced. Martin chuckled. 

“Yes, you are still allowed to know what Spiderman is.”

“Still?”

Martin sighed. He too would have wanted Jon to remember. 

At least the good bits.


	7. Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: cracking joints of the spine (I love it when someone cracks my back like this BUT HONESTLY don’t know if it is like super bad for your back, so don't try this at home, kids! I just needed Jon to be picked up, lmao). other stuff: Martin has a passing sexual thought about a noise Jon makes. slight non-sexual boundary violation that is addressed and negotiated.

“Martin?”

Martin looked up from the salad ingredients he was preparing. “Hmm?” 

“Could you –” Jon approached him and held up his arms.

“Hug you? Sure,” Martin couldn’t help but to laugh. They had a habit of asking permission for physical affection, but it didn’t usually extend to hugs. Hugs were usually always alright.

“No, um, actually. Pick me up?” Jon said and sighed. “My back’s acting up. I just wanna try something.”

“Oh. Sure.” Martin washed and dried his hands quickly. “What do you need me to do?”

Jon lifted his hands up higher and stood in front of Martin. “Just, pick me up from under my arms. Like you were hugging me.”

Martin did just so. Jon was easy to pick up, and it was a delightful request to fill. 

“And squeeze tight.”

Martin squeezed. It got even better.

“Tighter. Like, a lot.”

“Oh, okay.” Squeezing Jon as tight as he could was honestly something that he had often wanted to do. But given permission to do just so was suddenly a bit scary. Jon was so small. What if he squeezed too tight and something snapped?

He squeezed tight anyway. And yes, it was exactly as satisfying as he had imagined it would be. If he just squeezed tight enough, maybe he could actually manage to show how much love he had to give...

“Good. I won’t break. And then… Sort of… Jump me up and down?”

“What – okay, okay,” Martin said and laughed. 

He did as he was told. It was on the way down on the second bounce that Jon’s spine let out an impressive firework of crackles and one loud pop. 

“Yeah, that’s good, that’s enough,” Jon said with a somewhat strained voice. Martin stopped bouncing and loosened up the hold a little. 

Jon laid his head on Martin’s shoulder and let out a groan so satisfied that Martin froze. Now _that_ was a sound he hadn’t expected to hear Jon make.

“Woah,” Martin said. “Good?”

“Very.” Jon patted him on the shoulder. “You can put me down now.”

“Do I have to?” Martin asked hopefully. Jon was like a ragdoll cat in his arms. His feet were dangling a good amount above the floor and his arms dangled quite uselessly at his sides. And he weighed _nothing._ Really, Martin could hold Jon like this for forever. Just holding him close, taking him everywhere with him, always close enough to press a kiss on his hair just so –

Jon raised his head from Martin’s shoulder and looked at him, nose to nose. “Um.”

“It’s just. It’s nice. To hold you like this. It’s like, hug 2.0,” Martin said with a smile and swayed them gently from side to side.

Jon looked suspicious. “I don’t like people picking me up.”

“Oh! Of course. Sorry.” Martin put Jon down at once and took a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“Oh, no, no,” Jon said quickly and took a step closer. He took Martin’s hand. “Don’t worry. It’s just…” He sighed. “There just have been too many people in the past who had a habit of picking me up whenever they liked. You know. Just cause I was _too cute_ for them to resist.”

“Ouch.” 

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“It happens.”

“So… is it a no-go, then?”

Jon shook his head. “Just... ask first. And always put me back down when I ask you to.”

“I can do that,” Martin said and smiled. The smile faded quickly, though. “If you’re sure you’re sure?”

Jon raised his arms again, beckoned with his fingers and smiled. “Come here, pick me up.”

“Alright,” Martin said. He wrapped his arms around Jon’s chest, lifted him up and buried his face in Jon’s neck. Really, it was wonderful to hold him close like this. It really allowed him to squeeze Jon tight. Tight enough to show just a fraction of the love he had for him. 

He knew he would never be able to squeeze tight enough to show it all, though. 

Jon hummed fondly next to his ear. They stayed like that for a moment, Martin swaying them slowly side by side, and breathing in the scent of Jon’s hair. He sighed peacefully. Jon’s sigh was content and relaxed too. Just the way Martin liked it.

“Put me down, would you?” Jon whispered into his ear after a moment. It tickled. 

“Yeah,” Martin said and put Jon back down right away. 

Jon took a step back and looked up at Martin. “See? I trust you.”

Martin smiled.


	8. Poems

“Ooh, I want that table.”

“Go get it, I’ll order. Your usual?”

“Yes please!”

Martin hurried across the small coffee shop and sat down at a sunny table. He sighed and wiggled his toes in his shoes. It had been a long day of walking. Just walking, with no destination, no hurry. Just experiencing the world. The normal, boring,  _ beautiful  _ world. 

Jon had gotten stuck in a queue. Martin sat back more comfortably and looked at him. Seeing Jon there, just existing in the world, made suddenly that warm, familiar ripple travel through him from head to toe. 

_ That’s my boyfriend right there.  _

It felt so right to see Jon just standing there. His small frame fit into Martin’s world like a puzzle piece that had for so long in the past been missing. The gnawing loneliness that had for so long demanded to be cherished as his number one priority was only a distant memory now. In its place was Jon. His presence filled the pathways the Lonely had once carved in him. 

And there Jon now stood, just like any regular person waiting for their turn. Martin had a sudden feeling that he would end up remembering this moment for a very long time. When he would look back at this spring, he would remember how he and Jon went to a coffee shop on a Saturday afternoon. And in that coffee shop he had watched his boyfriend standing in a queue. 

It felt like a good moment to remember. 

Jon took a step forward in the line and Martin sighed happily. He wasn’t sure whether or not he would be able to put this moment into words and share it with Jon. Probably he’d just end up saying that he loved him very much. He could try to write it into a poem, of course. But even if Jon read it he might still not quite understand...

Martin dug up his notebook and a pen anyway. 

_ Spring sun warmed your back  _

_ With each step you took _

_ Each sure step in your small sneakers – _

No, sneakers were not a very good visual. Just shoes, then? And what exactly would it add to say they were _small_ shoes? Why say shoes at all? Maybe it would be best to just leave extra detail out. Every step you take... No, that’s the song about a stalker. Some describing words were for the better. _Sure_ steps. They were sure steps that Jon took, even if they were just moving him minutely forward in the queue. There was something sure about the way Jon carried himself in general. 

It hadn’t always been that way, now that Martin thought about it.  _ Huh.  _ He looked up at Jon and put his pen down. Back in the day, when they hadn’t known each other very well, Jon had carried himself differently. He had hunched more. He had seemed like… a hedgehog, ready to become spiky at any moment. Equally cute too, for sure, but spiky nevertheless. 

Then Jon had accepted his role as the Archivist. His steps had become heavy, then. Carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

And now... Even after all they had been through, now Jon’s steps were sure. He carried himself with an unassuming and effortless certainty. As if… as if he knew the world and his place in it. There was a tall man standing behind Jon in the queue, and even though Jon looked positively tiny in comparison, he still managed to look more sure of himself. 

Oh, Jon glanced at the man behind him now, flashed an absent smile. 

Martin looked back and forth between the two men. Jon was barely to the other man’s shoulder. Objectively speaking, the tall man ought to have been the attractive one, he supposed. The type to appear in magazine covers. But to Martin… The tall man looked just bland. Cookie cutter man. And aggressively heterosexual too, if his large watch, characterless colors and boring shoes were anything to go buy. 

Whereas Jon...

Jon looked just right. 

It was hard to pinpoint what made it so. Maybe it was just because of how familiar of a sight he was. Maybe it was his off-fashion clothing, or the carefree way he wore his hair. And it was probably his size too. Definitely his size. Martin had never been quite able to explain what it was about small men that he liked so much. It wasn’t just the  _ cuteness.  _ It couldn’t be, since he definitely found Jon also beautiful, and hot, and just… really good looking. And it all was  _ because _ he was small, not despite the fact. 

But now looking back and forth between Jon and the towering man that stood behind him, Martin had a new thought about what it was exactly that made Jon’s shortness attractive to him. 

It was the  _ defiance  _ of it. Not that Jon defied anything on purpose with his size, no. He hadn’t chosen it, so it wasn’t really a statement, now was it. But just… seeing him exist in a world that told you there was only one way to be good looking... That in itself was enough. Just that made Martin proud and excited. Maybe it came with being queer, or not fitting in the beauty standards himself either, but seeing Jon just carry himself through the world in that effortless and carefree way of his… it was reassuring. And attractive. Oh boy, was it attractive. 

And it was such a  _ beautiful  _ fuck you for anyone who claimed there was only one way to be good-looking. Fuch beauty standards. Fuck making fun of short people. It wasn’t as if Martin was a really violent person, but it was quite satisfying to think about kicking in the teeth of anyone who thought Jon was lesser because of his size. 

And if anyone ever made fun of Jon’s size in front of him, then there was no telling what he’d –

“Sorry you had to wait for so long,” Jon said as he sat down on the table across Martin. 

“Oh?” Martin blinked. Right, Jon had already gotten their drinks while he had been lost in thought. Martin accepted the cuppa Jon offered him. “Right. No worries. Mmm, smells good.”

“Good. Were you writing?”

Martin closed the notebook and pushed it to the side. “No, not really.”

“Was it about me?

Martin paused. “You know, sometimes it’s hard to believe that you don’t have the whole Eye thing going for you anymore. 

“Just an educated guess. Or, could be instinct too. I’m pretty sure you were looking at me quite... intently.”

“Busted.”

“Saw anything to your liking?”

Martin took a breath and prepared a sarcastic comment, something along the lines of  _ Wouldn’t you like to know. _ But something happened to the sarcasm on its way out. 

“Yes. You,” Martin said.

Jon hummed, amused. “Don’t know why I asked.”


	9. Jokes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: aggressive language

“Seriously.  _ Seriously? _

You honestly said that to my face? To me? You – don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know who I’m with? What he  _ means  _ to me?

I mean. That’s it. That’s just – that’s just too much. I mean, really?  _ Really?  _ I’ve walked across the ruined world, hand in hand with the man who broke it and then put it back together. You owe  _ everything _ to him. And you dare to think you are  _ significant enough,  _ that you matter enough, to place judgement on us? On  _ him?  _ And on his  _ appearance,  _ of all things? 

I can’t even – no, you know what. You know what. Did you honestly think that was a good joke? It wasn’t. It wasn’t a good joke, and actually,  _ actually,  _ it wasn’t a joke at all. You think it’s a joke to be short? Well, buddy, let me tell you something. You’ve got nothing on short men. Nothing.  _ You  _ are nothing. You are not worthy to swipe the dirt under their feet. You are worth  _ less _ than that dirt. Every single one of them, every single small man is more worthy, brave, and, and, and just _ better  _ than you.  _ Every. Single. One of them. _

And furthermore: fuck you. Fuck you and your bullshit opinions. Just, just, fuck off. You’ve got yourself up against me now. And, and just so you know, I don’t actually forgive easily. Hmm? So you better watch your mouth and just, you know, learn to see things the  _ right _ way. Because next time, well, the next time I won’t be this forgiving. Consider this a warning. 

And it’s the last warning you’ll get.”

Martin basked in the glow of righteous fury and hot water for a moment more before he closed the spray and stepped out of the shower. The faceless opponent making fun of Jon hung their head in shame, now seeing the error of their ways. They were grateful for Martin, for helping them see the light. 

_ We understand better now. Thank you, Martin. We are sorry. _

Martin wrapped himself in a dressing gown and began toweling his hair dry. “And you’d better be sorry.”

“Who better be sorry?

“Um.” Martin peered from underneath the towel and saw Jon trailing into the bathroom. He didn’t particularly want to replay his train of thought. “No-one. Or, I mean. A lot of people, really.”

Jon reached for his toothbrush. “I know a few who should.”

Martin grunted in agreement, hung his towel to dry and grabbed his own toothbrush too. They brushed their teeth in a comfortable silence, every now and then glancing at each other through the mirror, rising their eyebrows in acknowledgment of each other. 

“We’ll make them sorry,” Martin muttered, mostly to himself.

Jon rinsed his mouth and put his toothbrush away. “So vengeful, first thing in the morning.” He patted Martin on the shoulder. “Come on, breakfast is ready.”


	10. Dreams

Movement at the side of his eye alerted Martin and he looked up from his phone. Jon was standing next to the sofa. It was late and their flat was dimly lit, but even in the low light Martin could clearly see the exhaustion that was written into the slouch of his narrow frame. 

“Woah,” Martin said. “Come here, you.”

Martin spread his arms and shuffled down to lie more comfortably. Jon obeyed without saying a word and climbed right on top of him. They slotted themselves into a familiar position, Jon laying on top of him just slightly to the side so that he could rest his head on Martin’s shoulder. A win-win situation for them both: Jon got a warm mattress that hugged him, and Martin got a weighted blanket. He really liked the feeling of Jon’s weight on him. Jon was heavy enough to feel reassuring and grounding, and not nearly heavy enough to really trouble Martin’s breathing. 

And the position really was optimal for hugging Jon. Martin wrapped one arm around Jon’s ribcage, and with one hand he propped up his phone on Jon’s shoulder. 

“What have you been up to?” he asked absentmindedly, still tapping a message on his phone. All evening Jon had been typing furiously on his laptop, staring at the screen with that almost angry concentration that was familiar to Martin from a different time. 

“Research.”

“Oh,” Martin said cautiously and stopped typing. “Careful. Don’t wanna burn yourself out, okay?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. What are you doing?”

“Me?” Martin frowned at his phone. “Um. Arguing with strangers online, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Good question.” Martin erased the message he had been writing, shut the screen and put the phone down on the sofa table. See how much  _ that  _ annoys them, he thought, to wait for a reply that never comes. He wrapped both of his arms around Jon’s middle. “What was your research about?”

Jon shifted slightly, slotting his head more comfortably to the crook of Martin’s neck. “Mmm. It was for… arranging a…” Jon sighed and some words got lost in a mumble, “...to get a... in order to…”

Martin laughed softly. The movement of his belly jostled Jon up and down. “I see. You’ll carry it on tomorrow, then?”

“No, I’ll, just… I’ll get back to it soon.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Martin placed a kiss on top of Jon’s head.

“Mmm. In a moment.”

Martin looked at Jon’s relaxed face where it was buried on his chest and waited in case he had anything more to say. When nothing came, Martin picked up his phone again and began browsing, non-aggressive content this time. By the time he had finished a video on how to train a cat to give you a high-five, Jon’s breathing had evened out into a peaceful snuffle. 

Martin smiled at him and put his phone down again. It was a rare and precious moment, getting to witness Jon falling asleep. Jon’s sleep was troubled more often than not, and it was usually Martin who fell asleep first and woke up last. Now he timed his own breaths to Jon’s, listened to the sound of distant traffic, and waited patiently for Jon’s sleep to deepen. 

His nose stung suddenly with happy tears. They welled his eyes, not heavy enough to fall to his cheeks. There, in their shared home, in his embrace, Jon finally felt safe enough to rest. Really rest. It was more than what Martin had dared to hope for a long, long time. 

But they couldn’t sleep on the sofa for the whole night. Martin needed more room to stretch out his legs. Once he was sure Jon was really asleep, he carefully turned to his side. Jon fell down next to the backrest. Martin untangled himself and got up.

Jon grumbled. 

“Shh, love. I’ll be right back,” Martin whispered. 

He picked the coffee table up and set it aside. It was a silly little idea, but one that felt somehow good in the moment. He fetched the thin guest mattresses from the closet, set them on the floor next to the sofa and made them into a makeshift bed. Here they would wake up in the morning sunshine instead of their darker bedroom. It would make for a nice Sunday morning lay-in. 

He fetched their pillows and blankets from their actual bed and laid them down, then closed the lights and stood aside to appraise his creation. It looked very cozy. Like a sleep-over, but at their own home. 

And the one last thing…

He stepped to the sofa, kneeled down next to it and picked Jon up. “Alright, bed bug, come here.”

“I’m awake,” Jon mumbled.

“I know.” Martin laid Jon down on the makeshift bed next to the sofa. Jon didn’t open his eyes. Instead he allowed Martin to pull the covers over him. It was a good sign. It would be for the best not to wake up Jon now. If he woke up, he might not fall asleep again that night at all. 

Martin sighed with relief. Now he’d just go brush his teeth and –

Jon took hold of his hand and cradled it under his chin. 

Alright. No brushing teeth, then. Martin laid down next to Jon, snuggled up close and mapped Jon’s features with a fond gaze in the dark. Who cared about brushing teeth, anyway? Jon’s sleep was more important than that.


	11. Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo how are we feeling now that the end times are near?
> 
> I’ve now marked the chapter count to 14. I did not plan it to be such a TMA appropriate number but it is now! And because this fic has no fixed plot, I reserve the right to still add more chapters if the inspiration strikes. No guarantees in any direction!
> 
> cw for this chapter: some kind of depression/anxiety/trauma response. Jon had a bad day some chapters ago, so now it’s Martin’s turn. Next chapters are happier.

“Martin.”

“Mmm.”

“You’ve been playing for a while.”

“Mmm.”

Martin stared at the TV. Figures, numbers, meaningless achievements flashed on the screen. A thin thread that made him feel at least something today, and kept the...  _ other _ emotions away. But the controller was heavy in his hands.

Jon placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Have you eaten?”

Martin shrugged.

“I’ll come sit there with you,” Jon said and climbed over the armrest of the sofa. He sat next to Martin, rested his head on Martin’s shoulder and snaked his legs across Martin’s lap. Martin put the controller on his knees and kept on playing in silence. 

He glanced at Jon. He was watching the game peacefully, tracing an absentminded pattern on Martin’s knee. As the calm continued, Martin began to gather the will-power he needed for moving. Jon’s presence helped. He could focus on Jon. Maybe with Jon there he actually could risk to pause the game.

After a while he did just so. He set the controller aside, put an arm across Jon’s back and gathered him in his lap. Jon drew his knees up to his chin and Martin hugged the whole bundle close to him. He hid his face between Jon’s shoulder and knee. 

Jon freed one of his arms and stroked Martin’s hair. His voice was soft and so loving it ached. “What if I made us those ramen bowls you like?”

Martin almost smiled at that. Not quite. But the potential for a smile was there. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and uncertain, as if it had gotten a bit lost after not being used all day. “With broth and all?”

“Of course.”

Martin took a deep breath, cradled Jon closer and nodded.

When the ramen bowl eventually appeared in front of Martin, he did smile a little. Jon’s ramen bowls were the closest thing to love in a material form he had ever received.


	12. Hot Jon Rights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the rating to M to be on the safe side, though this might still be a T! I’ve been a bit nervous to post a sexy chapter involving an ace character. But because the goal of this fic is to love small men in all the ways possible, I needed to write it to stay true to myself and my Martin. 
> 
> The chapter title was meant to be temporary but I’ve grown attached to it, so Hot Jon Rights it is. 
> 
> Cw: Jon is confidently a sex-neutral asexual. He is described as sexy through Martin’s POV. Martin experiences intense attraction and is aroused. He has some anxiety about asking for things he wants. They talk about sex and boundaries. Martin uses the word “wank” regardless of what he might or might not have in his pants. No sex will actually happen in the writing and is implied to happen after the cut.

Jon walked into the living room. 

“Oh, God.”

Jon had just walked into the living room. He had also just had a shower. 

“Good, good, good, good, good.”

Jon had just walked into their living room. He had just had a shower. And he was wearing  _ that shirt. _

“Hmm hmm hmm hmm,” Martin hummed to keep himself from muttering any more nonsense out loud. He turned back towards the computer, where he had been doing… something. Yes, definitely something. What it had been, he did not know. There was just a whole lot of something on the screen.

He looked back at Jon.

His hair was wet after the shower and it curled from the ends. His bare feet patted quietly against the floor as he walked towards the kitchen. Through the kitchen door Martin saw his side profile when he reached up to a shelf, and when he reached… 

Martin squealed. 

The thing with the shirt. The thing with the shirt was… It ought to have been just a regular shirt. It was a ratty old tank top, one with those too large holes for arms. Martin was pretty sure Jon would not have been able to tell how it had ended up in his closet in the first place. And it was the perfect top to wear with just boxer briefs on a hot summer evening after a shower, when you didn’t want to get sweaty again right away. Just a piece of fabric, was all.

But when Jon reached up to the shelf… that top became something else. It only pretended to be a shirt, really. What it really was was a frame. And that frame, it revealed the smooth expanse of Jon’s side. The shape of his ribcage underneath his skin. The dip of his belly, a tuft of hair in his armpit... And one dusky nipple that flashed to the view where the fabric fell on Jon’s chest.

“Oh, God,” Martin gasped. Funny how his breathing had gotten shallow like that all of a sudden. 

Jon got the glass he had been reaching for and disappeared from the doorway. Martin stared at the now empty spot where Jon had just been. Somewhere in the distance he heard the fridge being opened. 

And there he sat, with a sudden urge to lick something. Preferably a long stroke on the smooth skin of Jon’s side. 

Fine. This was how it was for him today, then. 

“Jon?” he called and prayed for strength. 

“Yes?” Jon was pouring something in the kitchen. 

Martin swallowed. “I’ll just…” he exhaled slowly and tried to gather his composure. Then continued with a chipper voice. “I’m just letting you know that. Well. You look really good today.”

“Oh?” Jon said. The fringe door closed, and soon Jon appeared to the doorway with a glass of juice. He took a sip and regarded Martin for a moment. “I see.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You seem a bit twitchy, now that you mention it.”

Martin didn’t try to deny it. He shrugged with one shoulder. Now that Jon was facing towards him, the tank top did much better effort at pretending to be just a shirt, but it didn’t fool him. Any sudden movement from Jon might reveal what it really was.

Jon walked across the room, put the glass down on the desk and leaned his hands on the tabletop. He tilted his head and looked at Martin, but Martin had hard time maintaining eye-contact. It was because the shirt had done the unimaginable and fallen forward now that Jon leaned on the desk. From the edge of the fabric Martin could see Jon’s whole middle panned out in front of him. His belly moved slowly with his breathing. The skin on his sides looked smooth and so tempting to touch. Martin knew just how good it would feel like to slide his palms along that skin.

And what was worse, also Jon’s hands were on display right in front of Martin. His fingers were spread on the desk. Martin stared. His fucking _ hands... _

“Eaurgh,” Martin happened to say. 

“Martin…” Jon said, his voice fond and just slightly exasperated. Martin looked up at him and saw him smiling. 

“I can’t help it!” Martin said. His face was getting red, he knew it. 

“It’s alright.” Jon turned around and leaned on the desk with his hips. Now the shirt covered his front but revealed a lean muscle from the edge of his back. “What do you want?”

Martin let out a high-pitched squeal. “Kind of a lot of things.”

Jon looked at him for a moment. Then he ran his hands up his neck and gathered his hair up in a bun before releasing it again. Then he stretched. The expanse of his sides and the length of his arms flexed right in front of Martin’s eyes.

The delicate definition of his bicep made Martin see stars.

“Oh, you –” Martin stared at Jon, murderous. “You fucking tease.”

At that Jon laughed. He crossed his arms and smiled brightly at Martin, shaking his head. “Well. It never ceases to amaze me that you get like… this, over me.”

Martin squirmed. His hands were getting really restless. He wanted to touch, but he’d need to ask first what was okay for Jon today. It was still sometimes hard to navigate the boundaries of their relationship, especially when he was hit by attraction all of a sudden like this. 

Jon’s brow furrowed with concern. “Martin? You okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…” Martin shook his head. “Hoo, boy. It’s a lot.”

“Can I sit?” Jon asked and gestured at Martin’s lap.

“Oh, wow. Yeah. Yeah. Please.”

Jon sat gingerly on his lap, sideways. Martin put his face on Jon’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He inhaled the clean smell of his shower-fresh fiancé. His shampoo, his soap, his hair-oil… It was Jon, Jon and Jon all over. His fingers dug into Jon’s hips, wanting to pull him closer, not sure if he was allowed to. His hips wanted to grind up closer too, and he should ask first, why was it still so hard to just ask for things...

He looked up at Jon and didn’t bother to disguise the emotion. Jon gasped a little and looked back at him, fondly. “Oh, darling,” he said. 

The endearment punched straight through Martin’s heart. He whined. “You,” he said, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

Jon laughed. “True.”

“Don’t get smart at me.”

“You said it, not me.”

Jon caressed his cheek. Martin leaned into the touch, and soon Jon buried his hands in his hair and scratched his scalp. The touch was reassuring and grounding.

“What do you want?” Jon asked again. “We can figure something out.”

“I want…” Martin began. It was so many things, and many of them he knew Jon would not feel comfortable doing. But Jon’s fingers were gentle in his hair. He trusted Jon to hear him out. “Can I just say it?”

“Go ahead.”

Martin nodded and swallowed again. He would not say everything, it was just a courtesy for their previous talks about Jon’s boundaries. But the things Jon might be okay with… “I want… I want to take this damn shirt off. I want to lay you down on the bed and feel your skin all over. Your arms, your chest, your belly… Your sides. If it’s okay, your thighs too. And your butt.” Oh no, he was thinking of Jon’s butt now. That small, cute butt with dimples… Yep, he was a lost cause today. He took a fortifying breath. “And I want to kiss you all over too. I want to snog you. Though I don’t think…”

“No snogging, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, I know. Can I kiss you elsewhere? Neck? Chest?”

“We can try. What else?”

Martin bit his lips. Now came the hard part, the part that was sometimes so hard to ask for. What if he made Jon uncomfortable? He would do something wrong, and Jon would think he was gross and get angry and, and, and  _ leave,  _ and…

And that was just his anxiety talking. Jon loved him, and none of that bad stuff was going to happen. It was okay. They had _talked_ about this before. It was okay. Jon had _said_ it was okay. And even if he accidentally overstepped a boundary, they would just… talk it out. Jon knew where his own boundaries were each day, and Martin knew Jon would let him know too. It would be okay.

Martin sighed and focused on the feel on Jon’s fingers soothingly scraping his scalp. “And I want to… touch myself at the same time. I mean. To wank.” He laughed nervously and looked to see Jon’s reaction. Jon was looking patiently at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. Martin braced himself. “Or,” he said, “you could…”

He didn’t dare to finish the sentence. 

“I could wank you instead,” Jon added, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Martin felt his cheeks grow hot. “Yeah, I, I mean, yeah. Yeah. Um. Yeah.”

Jon laughed softly. “Maybe. I’m not sure. But we can try.”

Martin smiled back at him. “Yeah?”

“Sure. Since it makes you smile like that.” Jon paused. When he continued, there was a mischievous tone to his voice. “And since you are so weak for my tiny magic hands, after all.” He pulled his hands out of Martin's hair and wiggled his short fingers in the air. 

Martin laughed, and some tension he hadn’t realised he had been holding dissolved with his laughter. He wrapped his arms around Jon and pulled him close. “I love, love, love,  _ love  _ you,” he said. “And I want you. Gosh, how I want you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Jon said back. “Very much.”

The smile in his voice was all Martin wanted to hear. 


	13. Endearments

Martin glanced up from his book, then did a double take. “Oh no, no, no, no, no. Who gave you permission?” 

Jon didn’t look up from his phone. He stood in the middle of the living room floor, completely absorbed in writing something.

“Jon?”

Tap tap tap, went Jon’s thumbs.

“Jon.”

No response.

“Jon!”

Jon barely glanced at him. “Hmm?”

Martin sighed, disappointed in himself. It wasn’t really in the spirit of teasing to do it when his target was lost in thought. He should have realised that before competing for Jon’s attention. “Nevermind.” He turned to sit sideways on the sofa, put his feet up and picked up his book again. He knew from experience it would be useless to try talking to Jon when he was focused on anything like that.

“Okay,” Jon mumbled, long after Martin had stopped waiting for a response. 

Tap tap tap, went Jon’s thumbs. Martin buried himself in his book and paid him no mind, until Jon slowly gravitated next to the sofa. There he flopped down and ended up leaning against Martin’s updrawn knees, all the while tapping on his phone. 

Martin looked up from his book and smiled. The intense concentration had pinched a crease in between Jon’s brows, but it wasn’t a frown. He knew it meant Jon was enjoying himself. So he continued reading and let Jon do his thing. 

Eventually Jon’s phone clicked down on the coffee table. He let out a tired but satisfied sigh, ran his hands over his face to his hair, and stared at nothing. 

“All good?” Martin asked.

“Yes, yes. Good talk. Bog mummies.”

Martin laughed. “Right. Wanna tell me more?”

“Best not. I’d talk all evening,” Jon said and sighed again, this time lighter, and turned to look at Martin. “What was it you said earlier?”

Martin shook his head. “It was nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

“Just asked who gave you permission to steal my jumper.”

“Oh.” A delightful smile spread on Jon’s face. It reached all the way up to his eyes and scrunched them up until he was a picture of mischievous joy. “I took the liberty.”

“I see. Well, then I’ll take the liberty to say that you look  _ awfully adorable  _ in it.”

“I know. You’ve told me.”

“A-ha.” Martin regarded Jon with a smile of his own and tried to decode him. There were a couple of things to consider. First of all, Jon might as well have had a neon sign above his head that blinked the word  _ cute  _ on and off. But Jon was a tough nut when it came to that specific word used as a compliment. Martin knew there had been times when  _ cute  _ had been the only compliment Jon ever got. And it was a word that didn’t always sound like a compliment. But there was just that little mischievous glint in his eyes now… 

“You know, I actually have a couple compliments lined up,” Martin said. 

That glint in Jon’s eyes flashed. “Do you, now.”

“Mh-hmm. For a special occasion. Would be an awful waste not to use them.”

“Indeed.”

They stared at each other. Excitement bubbled underneath Martin’s skin. His compliments were a little game of theirs. They both pretended that they weren’t, but they both knew it. 

This time it was Jon who cracked first. “Let’s hear them, then.”

“You sure? I mean, you have no idea what I’ve prepared.”

“You get  _ one minute.  _ So you better give me your worst.” Jon cocked an eyebrow. A challenge. 

Martin raised a victorious fist. “Yesss!”

“Ready?”

“Wait.” Martin put the book away from his lap and sat up on the sofa. He took a deep breath and rubbed his palms together. “Ready.” 

Jon took a deep breath as well and straightened his posture. “Okay. And… go.”

Martin got to work. 

“Aren’t you the  _ sweetest little peanut I’ve ever seen!”  _ He grabbed Jon’s cheeks and squished until his face was all scrunched up. Jon frowned and that was a cherry on top of the cutest angry expression in the whole world. 

“You scrumptious little crumpet, I’ll, I’ll dip you in tea, you little – little, you, son of a – son of a  _ biscuit,  _ I’ll dip you in tea and you’ll just dissolve like the honey comb you are, the sweetest little – love bite – I’ve – ever – seen.” Martin littered little kisses around Jon’s head in between the words. Then he picked up Jon’s hands and kissed them instead. 

“You cuteness overload, you – you – you dictionary definition of it, you squishy little –  _ marshmallow _ of everything warm and fuzzy –” he pulled Jon into his lap and spoke so right into his ear, “– my baby cow, with the wisest eyes I’ve ever seen, I could stare at them all day and night.” Jon giggled when Martin’s breath tickled his ear. Martin could have lived only on the sound of it for a year. 

“And I’m gonna, I’m gonna –” Martin snaked his arms around Jon and bundled him up, bridal style, “– I’m gonna pick you up and put you in my pocket, and I’m going to keep you warm and safe and cuddle you up close and smother you with kisses, my–”

“Time’s up. Martin! Martin, time’s up, that’s it!” 

“...my muse and my – oh, already?” Martin eased from his embrace and let Jon rearrange himself on his lap. His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed, and he was laughing. 

“Son of a biscuit. Really?”

“That one was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Jon wrapped his arms around Martin’s neck and put his head on his shoulder. “You know that a baby cow is a calf, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. But ‘my calf’? Nope. Baby cow it is.” Martin buried his nose into Jon’s hair, closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of him. The joy and excitement of getting to pepper Jon with endearments was shifting into a different mood. A relaxed and loving one. 

“How do you even come up with all that stuff?” Jon mumbled against his neck. 

“Hmm. I’d memorised a couple. But mostly I just describe what I see and feel.” 

“Right. The poet of the house.” Jon’s smile was audible in his voice. 

A silence fell like a comfortable blanket over the two of them. Martin traced Jon’s hairline, then dipped his fingers into his hair. Jon closed eyes and mumbled appreciatively. 

“Martin?” he asked after a while. 

“Hmm?”

“A kiss?”

“Mmm.” Martin lifted his face from Jon’s hair to look at him. “I’d like that.”

Jon smiled and tilted his chin up. Martin dipped his head and his lips met with Jon’s. They kissed without hurry, and with gentleness that made Martin dizzy. So many years he had dreamed of having just this. So many years.

“Do you have anything to do?” Jon asked when they parted. His eyes were right in front of Martin’s, so close that they were slightly out of focus.

“No, not really,” Martin said. Even if he had, it wouldn’t have been more important than just to lie here with Jon. “You?”

“No, nothing.”

“Good. Wanna tell me about bog mummies?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next and supposedly the last chapter is only a vague idea for now, and it hasn’t told me when it will realise itself. So until then, take care! <3


End file.
